Sylvia's Journal

Sitting for two and a half hours in a small windowless room underneath fluorescent lights, behind barricade upon barricade is not good for my psyche. By the time we emerged from the meeting with our donor I felt completely drained. It was a good meeting in that it provided an opportunity to clarify and refine assumptions and next steps, though it did not require my presence specifically. I wouldn’t have minded to be informed later.Sometimes this inclusiveness is too much.

Back in the office I finished bottle after bottle of water when no one was looking.The only energy I had left for the remainder of the day was watching the video that was made of the conference. There is about 4 hours of footage recording every minute of every speech with some pans mixed in with close ups of the audience. It is not a great piece of artistry but an honest record nevertheless. I have to watch all four hours to determine what we will do with it.

Anyone who ever speaks in front of a microphone should be forced to watch a video of his or her performance. Since I was one of the speakers I got to watch myself and discovered that I mumble. People here are polite and won’t risk offending a foreigner by giving that kind of feedback, so watching myself was useful. I have a few more hours of watching the remainder of the video. It is turning out to be an ideal activity for the hot and sleepy last hour of the day since anything else would require too much energy.

Back home, sitting in my cool living room and watching endless re-runs of the London riots I finished the tiny cashmere sweater for Sara’s baby, just in time to go home with Steve and, hopefully just in time for its arrival. It is made from the wool that I picked up at the wool factory – I have seen it spun from its raw material – soft fluffy goats’ chin hairs.

Now on to the next project while I wait for things to clear up at work – promised signatures to appear and my resignation being called in. Neither has happened so far.